Chapter 2: The Woman Who Never Wanted Us
For several seconds, Mason forgot how to move.
The hallway seemed to shrink around him, the walls pressing closer as Beatrice's words replayed in his mind.
“They haven't suspected a single thing.””
Twenty years.
He had spent twenty years believing that his biological mother had abandoned him and Simon.
Twenty years believing that their childhood had begun with rejection and that Kenneth and Beatrice had stepped in when no one else wanted them.
Twenty years explaining away Beatrice's cruelty because he thought he owed her something.
And now she was laughing about it.
Mason stared at the kitchen doorway.
He could see a narrow strip of the room from where he stood. The corner of the dining table. The edge of the refrigerator. A small vase of yellow roses sitting beside the sink.
His adoptive mother was celebrating her birthday while discussing the secret that had shaped both her sons' lives.
He should have walked in.
He should have demanded answers.
Instead, he remained where he was, afraid that if he made a sound, the conversation would end before he learned enough to understand what was happening.
Grandma Rose spoke first.
“You've carried this on for a long time, Beatrice.””
“Someone had to.””
“I'm not saying you didn't have your reasons.””
“Then don't pretend you understand what I've been through.””
Mason flinched.
Even now, even while discussing a secret that apparently involved her adopted sons, Beatrice managed to make herself the victim.
Rose sighed.
“I just wonder whether keeping them in the dark was necessary.””
“Necessary?”” Beatrice repeated.
“You think I had a choice?””
“You always have a choice.””
“Not when Kenneth decided to bring them home.””
Mason's stomach tightened.
Kenneth.
His father.
The man who had told him that he was loved, that he was safe, that whatever had happened before their adoption wasn't their fault.
What did Kenneth have to do with this?
Beatrice continued, her voice sharp with old resentment.
“He was determined to play the hero. Two little boys, both the same age, both needing a family. He acted as though bringing them home would fix everything.””
Rose said something too softly for Mason to catch.
Then Beatrice laughed bitterly.
“And look how that turned out.””
Mason gripped the edge of a narrow console table.
He remembered Kenneth carrying him through the front door on the day they arrived.
He remembered the smell of fresh paint in the bedroom, the bright blue curtains, and the little wooden beds placed side by side.
He remembered Kenneth kneeling in front of him and Simon.
“This is your home now,” he had said.
“You never have to wonder where you belong again.””
Mason had believed him.
He had believed him when Kenneth helped him tie his shoes, when he sat beside him during thunderstorms, and when he promised that no one would ever make him feel unwanted again.
Now Beatrice was suggesting that the adoption had been something Kenneth wanted, something she had endured.
Mason swallowed hard.
“Tell me you didn't know,” Rose said.
“I knew enough.””
“That's not an answer.””
“It is the only answer you're getting.””
Silence followed.
Mason could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock above the kitchen sink.
Then Rose spoke again.
“Those boys loved Kenneth.””
“I know.””
“They still do.””
“And what does that have to do with anything?””
“Everything, Beatrice.””
Mason closed his eyes.
He could hear the strain in Rose's voice now.
For the first time since he had entered the house, she sounded less like a passive observer and more like someone struggling with a terrible decision.
“Kenneth wanted them to have a good life,” Rose continued.
“He wanted them to grow up knowing they were wanted.””
“They had a roof over their heads,” Beatrice snapped.
“They had food. They went to school. What more did he expect me to do?””
“Love them.””
The word fell into the room like a stone.
Mason's eyes opened.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Beatrice gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Love them? They weren't mine.””
Mason felt something inside him crack.
He had known, of course, that Beatrice didn't love him the way Kenneth had.
He had known it when she ignored his birthday, when she refused to attend his graduation, and when she reminded him that he should be grateful for the bare minimum.
But hearing her say those words so casually was different.
They weren't an angry remark spoken in the middle of an argument.
They were a confession.
She had never wanted them.
Perhaps she never had.
And yet, somehow, that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing how much of his life he had spent trying to prove that he deserved to be wanted.
Mason remembered being twelve and bringing home a report card filled with excellent grades.
He had hurried into the kitchen, eager to show Beatrice.
“Look! I got the highest score in math.””
She glanced at the paper.
“Did you clean your room?””
He had nodded.
“Then you did what you were supposed to do.””
He remembered being sixteen and staying up late to prepare a school presentation, only to discover that Beatrice had thrown away the cardboard model he had spent hours building because it had made a mess on the dining table.
He remembered apologizing.
He remembered her telling him that he was too sensitive.
And he remembered the night Simon had finally shouted back.
“We didn't ask you to adopt us!””
Beatrice had slapped her hand against the table.
“You should thank God every day that someone did!””
Simon had gone silent.
Mason had spent the next hour trying to calm him down.
Now, all those memories seemed to be rearranging themselves into something uglier.
Beatrice hadn't merely treated them like burdens.
She had repeatedly used their adoption as a weapon, reminding them that they had been unwanted before they arrived and that they owed her for taking them in.
But what if the story she had told them was false?
What if the truth was worse?
Mason forced himself to keep listening.
Rose's voice had become almost a whisper.
“You can't keep punishing them for something they didn't do.””
“I'm not punishing them.””
“Then what would you call it?””
“Life.””
“Beatrice.””
“What? They grew up. They went to college.
They have jobs. They don't need me anymore.””
“That's not the point.””
“It is to me.””
Mason looked toward the front door.
He could leave.
He could get into his car, drive away, and pretend he had never heard any of this.
He could call Simon and tell him that Beatrice was exactly the woman they had always believed her to be.
But that would mean returning to the same uncertainty that had haunted them since childhood.
And he could no longer bear it.
He wanted to know what had happened.
He wanted to know why Beatrice had said that they still believed every story she told them.
Most of all, he wanted to know what Kenneth had known.
The flowers were beginning to wilt beneath the warmth of his hands.
Mason carefully set them on the console table, then moved closer to the doorway.
Rose was speaking again.
“Do you ever think about what would happen if they found the records?””
Mason froze.
Records.
“What records?”” Beatrice demanded.
“Don't do that.””
“Do what?””
“Pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.””
A chair scraped against the kitchen floor.
Mason leaned forward, barely breathing.
Rose continued.
“The adoption paperwork wasn't the only thing Kenneth kept. There were other documents. Letters. Things that should have been given to the boys when they were old enough.””
Beatrice's response came quickly.
“They were never supposed to see those.””
“That's exactly what worries me.””
“Why would they ever look for them?””
“Because they're adults now. Because they have questions. Because one day, they might want to know more about the woman who gave birth to them.””
Beatrice laughed.
“They've been told everything they need to know.””
“No,” Rose replied.
“They've been told everything you wanted them to believe.””
Mason's heart hammered against his ribs.
There it was.
The confirmation he had been desperately waiting for.
Beatrice had lied.
Not about a small detail.
Not about some forgotten argument or a family disagreement.
She had deliberately shaped their understanding of their own origins.
Mason reached into his pocket for his phone.
He needed to call Simon.
He needed someone else to hear this, someone who would tell him he wasn't imagining the conversation.
But before he could unlock the screen, Beatrice spoke again.
“You promised me you'd never bring this up.””
“I promised I wouldn't tell the boys.””
“It's the same thing.””
“No, it isn't.””
“Mother, don't start.””
Rose's voice trembled.
“I've kept your secret for twenty years. I've watched those boys grow up believing their mother abandoned them, and I've watched you use that belief whenever you wanted to remind them how much they owed you.””
Mason's knees nearly gave way.
He pressed one hand against the wall.
Rose continued, her voice breaking.
“I watched Simon stop asking questions because he thought no one wanted him. I watched Mason keep coming back because he thought if he tried hard enough, you'd finally love him.””
Mason covered his mouth.
He hadn't expected anyone to notice.
He had spent so many years hiding the hurt that he had convinced himself nobody could see it.
But Rose had seen.
She had watched them.
She had known.
And she had kept quiet.
“Why are you bringing this up now?”” Beatrice demanded.
“Because I'm tired.””
“Tired of what?””
“Tired of pretending that what you did was justified.””
“You don't know the whole story.””
“Then tell me the whole story.””
A long silence followed.
Mason stared at the kitchen doorway, his mind racing.
He had spent years wondering whether his biological mother had ever thought about him and Simon.
Had she wondered what they looked like as adults?
Had she tried to find them?
Had she regretted leaving them behind?
Or had she simply moved on?
Those questions had followed him into adulthood, even when he pretended they no longer mattered.
He had never imagined that someone might have answers.
Someone who had known the truth all along.
Beatrice finally spoke.
“You want the truth?””
“Yes,” Rose replied.
“Fine. The truth is that Kenneth made a decision, and I had to live with it.””
“What decision?””
“He chose them.””
Rose's voice fell silent.
Beatrice continued, each word sharper than the last.
“He chose two little boys over his own family. He chose to build his life around them, and then he died and left me to deal with the consequences.””
Mason stared at the floor.
His father had died when they were ten.
For twenty-three years, Mason had remembered Kenneth as the person who made him feel loved.
Now Beatrice was speaking as though that love had been a betrayal.
Rose said, “That still doesn't explain what happened to their mother.””
“No,” Beatrice replied.
“It doesn't.””
“Then explain it.””
Mason leaned closer.
For the first time, Beatrice sounded uncertain.
“I did what I thought was best.””
“For whom?””
The question hung in the air.
Then Beatrice said something that made Mason's blood run cold.
“You keep asking about their mother as though she was the only person who had something to lose.””
Mason stared at the doorway.
Rose whispered, “What are you saying?””
Beatrice didn't answer.
Instead, Mason heard the sound of a drawer opening.
Something metallic clinked against the counter.
Then came the unmistakable rustle of paper.
“Do you remember what Kenneth said the night before he died?”” Beatrice asked.
Rose's answer was barely audible.
“Yes.””
“He told me that if anything happened to him, I was to give the boys everything.””
Mason stopped breathing.
Everything.
“What did he mean?”” Rose asked.
Beatrice gave a bitter laugh.
“He meant that he wanted to leave them the truth.””
Mason felt the floor shift beneath him.
The truth.
There were letters.
There were records.
There was something Kenneth had wanted them to know.
Something Beatrice had hidden for twenty years.
And judging by the fear creeping into Rose's voice, it was something neither woman wanted him to discover.
Then Beatrice spoke again.
“I made sure he never got the chance.””
Mason's fingers went numb.
He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the doorway as the woman he had spent his life trying to please finally revealed the depth of the secret she had kept.
He had come to wish her a happy birthday.
May you like
Instead, he was beginning to understand that his entire childhood might have been built around a lie.
And the man who had promised him that he would never have to wonder where he belonged again might have known exactly why he needed that promise.
